No work today or until after New Years, and yet so much to do. Yesterday I applied for a job which is just so, so me; you know, one of those jobs whose descriptions fall into your lap at exactly the time you want them to fall into your lap, and where you start thinking "Jeebus, maybe I can start using my powers for good instead of evil; maybe MY WHOLE LIFE UP TO THIS POINT HAS BEEN PREPARING ME FOR THE BEAUTIFULLY INEVITABLE CAREER I WILL HAVE AT THIS WONDERFUL PLACE." Which of course creates a bit of a sense of pressure, and meant I was actually having things that felt like palpitations before, while and after I applied.
No worries - I'm betting that actually has more to do with the four Pocket Coffees I ate in quick succession than a dicky heart or even any actual excitement. Anyways. There's really nothing for me to do in the interim besides apply to other interesting opportunities and keep my fingers crossed/pray - it'd be nice if you could keep yours crossed/pray for me too.
Speaking of pseudo-religion, last night I went to a lantern festival in Kensington Market to celebrate that our hemisphere has halted and gently reversed its slide into seemingly interminable darkness. I've been whining about it so much that it would be daft for me to not celebrate it, and you know what, it finally got me into the Christmas spirit. It certainly helped that my neice and nephews were there and just enchanted by the crazy sights of shadow puppets and paper lanterns and Burning Men and all the rest of it.
Hippies do manage to do an awful lot of things right and family-friendlyish festivals are one of them (intermittently). What I don't get is why they're still 'singing' tedious, whiny Lennon standards about peace when they could be really getting the audiences going with War (What is it Good For). Even those of us who are backwardly unacquainted with the Motown catalogue know that one either from Homer's naked church scene in the "The HΩmega Man" or from the Springsteen cover, and say what you will about Bruce Springsteen; only a patently insane woman would refuse to ride his face in favour of John Lennon's at its prettiest. And that's what peace is good for. Riding face.
Hippies need to learn how to reframe the debate.